“I knew you was sneakin’ around on me, you no good scoundrel!”
Mabel Jones stood in the bedroom doorway of the ramshackle cabin she shared with her husband. Hot-poker jealousy burned in her belly and boiled up into her eyes.
Elmer stiffened from his berth on the rope rug in front of the fireplace. The glow from the blaze filled the tiny living room, laying all his secrets bare.
Outside, rain beat against the tin roof, and somewhere behind him, water broke through the ceiling and hammered into the wooden floor.
*drip*
*drip*
*drip*
Gilda turned in Elmer’s arms to face Mabel.
“Now, Mabel,” Elmer began, rolling into a seated position. “It’s not what you think.”
“I warned you, Elmer Jones! I warned you not to bring that filthy beast into this house ever again. How could you do this to me?”
“Now, Mabel … it’s rainin’ hard outside. Stormin’!” Elmer pointed toward the ceiling and cocked an ear upward. Lightning flashed through the cabin’s single window, and thunder crashed like a cymbal. “She’s scared, that’s all.”
“Well, she can be scared somewhere’s else. Get her outta my house now, Elmer!”
Breaking free from Greta’s grasp at last, Elmer stood.
“I’m not kickin’ her out, Mabel. She got nowhere else to go. And besides …”
“And besides, what, Elmer?!” Mabel interrupted. “You love her don’t you?”
“Well …”
“Well what?” Mabel was fuming.
Greta winced at the loud voices and stood, whining. She padded across the floor and sat in front of Mabel, then licked the angry hand that hung near her face. The dog slid down and cuddled against Mabel’s feet.
“Well, you might too if you gave her a chance.”
Mabel huffed and pulled away.
“I’m goin’ to bed.”
And she did.
Greta followed close behind.
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